Chapter Text
Blitzø never thought of himself as a good person.
His whole life he had never done the right thing. He was a thief, a liar, and a murder for as long as he could remember. It was like he was physically allergic to being a decent person.
Well, at least, this was what Blitzø thought about himself. He had from the moment his father pulled him along for one of his schemes.
Blitzø began to believe that he was a shitty person when he was around when he was ten years old. He had just finished a matinee circus show. It definitely wasn’t his best performance by a long shot. Fizz always outshone him and he was used to it. He was used to Fizz getting the lime light while he stood in the back making him look better.
That same day, his father made him spend a day with a goetian prince around the same age as him. Apparently the prince had “rented” him for a day for his birthday. Blitzø thought most kids would want an action figure or something cool like that, but apparently rich kids rented other demons for fun.
Not weird at all.
This prince seemed nice enough to Blitzø. He was a complete and total nerd when it came to space and plants and he was really fluffy. His dad had him raid the palace to get as much loot as he could. And the palace was huge so there was a lot of fancy shit to steal.
Normally, Blitzø wouldn’t have hesitated but something that day made him feel…guilty about stealing, especially from this dorky little owl who got giddy about plants and stars.
The prince seemed like he actually enjoyed Blitzø’s company. It was the first time in a while that he actually felt appreciated and like someone like him for him and not the clown persona he had to put on all the time.
When he handed the bag of loot to his father, there was actually a small bit of pride in his eyes. Finally, his father was looking at him the same way he would look at Fizz. Like he was actually worth something.
Part of him chased that feeling. He started doing anything and everything just to get his father’s approval.
No matter the cost.
He seemed to be staying mostly in his father’s good graces. That was until Fizzarolli’s sixteenth birthday.
After a long pep talk with his mom, he finally had the courage to confess Blitzø feelings to Fizz. He wasn’t too good with his words, so he decided to write him a letter.
Blitzø made his way to the tent where Fizz’s birthday celebration was held. He picked a nice flower he found on the way to the tent. The imp took a deep breath in and opened the flap to the tent.
Across the room, Blitzø saw his father pin a clown nose on Fizz and then hand him a card. It was a generic birthday card with probably some generic message on it. Blitzø leaned closer to see it.
Wish you were my son.
Well, shit.
Blitzø’s face dropped into a grimace. All this time trying to please his dad and Fizz was still his favorite.
Not even Barbie, but it was someone who wasn’t even his own kid.
Fizz’s head turned around. He smiled and waved at Blitzø. He didn’t even seem to notice the angry expression on his face.
That son of a bitch.
Blitzø turned and stomped the other direction. He pushed the imp beside him out of the way with his head hung low.
He threw the note and flower on the ground and stomped on it as he walked away. Blitzø felt so defeated. All he wanted to do was bury his head in his pillow and sob until he had run himself dry.
That was until he heard a scream. Blitzø jerked his head in the direction of the scream. He saw a stampede of imps running towards him. He looked all around him to see green hellfire burning the tents around him. There was another scream that he turned towards.
Was that Fizz?
He ran towards the scream. It was coming from Fizz’s birthday party tent. Before he could get inside, a gaggle of imps burst out of a tent behind him. He heard more screams. Was that Barbie? His mom?
Blitzø looked next to him to see a bolt of fire headed his way. He tried to block it. Before he knew it, his arms, chest and face burned. The smell of burning flesh and smoke filled his lungs. “Fizz!” He screamed.
A scream came from the tent beside him. Blitzø turned to see his mother’s fortune teller tent burst into flames.
“Mom?” He cried wearily, running towards it.
“Blitzo!” He heard a voice croak behind him. Blitzø turned to see his best friend on the floor. His skin melted off of the imp’s bone. Fizz’s horns had been blown off to the base. His face was covered in blood and burn marks.
Fuck, what had he done?
“Help!” Fizz croaked, reached out a burned and bloody hand to his best friend. He pulled himself towards Blitzø, a pool of blood dragging behind.
Blitzø was going to help, he really was. But then he heard another scream coming from his mother’s tent.
He glanced between Fizz and the tent. Blitzø turned away and ran towards his mother. He heard a sheepish cry come from his best friend’s mouth.
Blitzø opened the tent to see a charred, limp body laying in the middle of the floor. “No!” He cried, running over to the body. “No, no, please no.”
“Blitzo!” Another voice cried. Blitzø couldn’t turn away from his mother’s carcass. “Please, no no.”
“We have to go now, Blitzo.” The voice screamed, pulling him away. He felt Barbie’s hand on his arm, pushing hard on his fresh burn wound. Before she could fully pull him away, he grabbed his mother’s pendant.
The two of them ran together, out of the circus until they saw the paramedics and firefighters.
Except Blitzø didn’t stop. He ran.
Past the paramedics. Past the ambulances. Past his family. Past everything we ever knew.
He thought he heard Barbie’s voice call after him. Maybe it was someone else, he didn’t care.
Blitzø had killed his mother and probably killed his best friend too. All because of what? His own jealousy and feelings.
That was the day Blitzø truly realized he wasn’t a good person.
Fifteen years later, he was still a shitty person.
After all, don’t become an assassin if you’re a good person.
But it was what Blitzø was good at so he figured he might as well make a living out of it.
Besides, it beats performing as a sell out clown for the rest of his life.
Blitzø sat on one side of the long, wooden table in IMP’s meeting room. He drummed his fingers rhythmically on the table. He looked across the table at his employees, Millie and Moxxie, who were making eyes at each other while holding hands on top of the table.
He didn’t mean to but he grimaced at them. Blitzø was happy for them, what dude wouldn’t be happy that his two best friends got engaged. He just wished he didn’t have to look at them being so in love with each other all the damn time.
Ever since he and Verosika ended things, even the sight of something lovey dovey irritated him. It reminded him that there was something empty in his heart.
An empty spot that ached watching the two of them smile and giggle at each other.
Blitzø’s thoughts were interrupted when the door loudly creaked open from across the room. The imp couple stopped canoodling and glanced towards the door.
Striker, Blitzø's friend and business partner, walked in through the door. His tail flicked behind him as he made his way to the head of the table.
Blitzø watched him the whole time as he moved. He looked slightly irritated but also satisfied at the same time.
Striker slammed a file down on the table so hard it made Moxxie jump in his seat. “New target.” Striker informed them. He slightly grinned. “It’s a big one.”
The three imps leaned over towards the file Striker had set down. The rattlesnake imp opened the file to the client’s information and Blitzø’s heart dropped to his stomach.
Stolas of the Ars Goetia.
The file read. Blitzø blinked hard twice with his eyes still focused on the file. He opened his mouth to say something but Moxxie beat him to it.
“You want us to kill a member of the Ars Goetia? Moxxie asked, his eyes looking at the file with as much shock in his eyes as Blitzø felt. The anxiety and paranoia in his voice was loud. “Sir, you can’t be serious.”
Striker glared at Moxxie and rolled his eyes. “Great prince of Hell and thirty sixth spirit of Ars Goetia, Stolas.” He continued, reading off the file. “Pretty powerful but according to our client he’s a pushover and a pacifist so this should be a pretty quick and easy job.”
Blitzø went to open his mouth again before Millie spoke. “Wouldn’t we need a holy weapon to kill this guy?” She asked, her voice sounding more bored in contrast to her fiancé’s paranoia. “Do we even have anything like that?”
Striker gave a slight nod before reaching into one of the pockets in his jacket. He pulled out six glowing bullets.
Holy bullets.
“One of these fuckers will be enough to send that prince to his grave.” Striker informed them with a satisfied smirk on his face.
Blitzø looked Striker up and down. “Killing demonic royalty isn’t cheap, who would have the money to put a hit out on a goetian prince?” He asked, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest.
“His wife.” Striker replied, leaning on the table. “She’s the Marquis’s sister and apparently she fucking hates her husband. Said if we didn’t get it done in a week she would find some other hitmen for hire.”
The wife probably wasn’t exaggerating. There wasn’t exactly a shortage of imp assassins in hell, but only a few of them would be bold enough to go after a demon prince.
Moxxie and Millie shared alarming glances with Blitzø. It was clear that they were all sharing the same thought but the two smaller imps didn’t want to say anything. So Blitzø figured he’d say it.
“I thought you said you didn’t work for blue bloods, Striker.” Blitzø pointed out, unable to hold back his smirk. Striker gave the other imp a nasty look.
Blitzø wouldn’t be half surprised if Striker jumped across the table and tried to choke him out. Instead, he just took a deep breath and grabbed an assault rifle from the weapons rack near them. He cocked the gun and gave Blitzø a side eye.
“I ain’t getting my hands dirty for no damn blue blood.” He set the rifle down on the table and slid it towards Blitzø. “You are.”
Blitzø leaned forward in his chair and uncrossed his arms. “Excuse me?” He asked, almost a little offended. “Why the fuck are you sending me to kill that royal fucker?”
“I dunno.” Striker shrugged. He leaned closer to Blitzø and gave him a smirk. “I figured you’d know your way around that palace on a count of the fact that you’re the only one of us that’s actually been there.”
Blitzø glared at Striker menacingly. Part of him was silently cursing himself for ever spilling any of his secrets to a loud mouth like Striker. He had half the mind to grab that rifle sitting in front of him and ram the butt of it in his business partner’s smug face.
“Wait.” Millie's voice broke the tension between the two men. She leaned forward and placed both hands on the edge of the table. “You mean that you’ve been to the prince’s palace before?” She asked, her and Moxxie’s attention focused on Blitzø.
Blitzø sighed deeply. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I did.” He replied, not looking Millie in the eye. He shrugged. “S’long story.”
Millie nodded, she slumped back into her seat. She knew Blitzø well enough to know not to press him for questions.
Blitzø fidgeted with his mother’s pendant around his neck. “So,” he asked, trying to change the subject. “How much is the wife willing to pay for us to put a blessed bullet in her husband’s skull?”
“Enough.” Striker replied. “Enough to pay for some new weapons.” He leaned closer to the engaged couple. “Enough to pay for a nice wedding.” Finally, he leaned so close to Blitzø they could hear each other’s heartbeats.
“Enough to pay for a cushy two bedroom apartment for you and your hound.”
There it was, Blitzø’s kryptonite: his daughter.
Loona was the reason he got up and went to work every day. She and Blitzø lived in a cramped, one bedroom that wasn’t suitable enough for a growing pup.
Blitzø would do anything for his daughter, and Striker knew this. He let out a deep sigh and stood up out of his chair.
He looked down at the gun and then the file. Blitzø thought about a better place for his daughter to grow up in. A place that didn’t risk having the water or lights shut off every month and a place dear a good place that she could go to school. He thought about Millie and Moxxie having the nice wedding that they deserved.
Blitzø had to do it, for them.
He grabbed the rifle off the table, which made Striker grin. “Fine.” Blitzø said, fiddling with the trigger. He grabbed the file off of the table. “I’ll kill the prince.”